


Story Of Tonight

by WhenWeNextMeetMyFriends



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Basically these guys are reincarnated, Gay, It's a good idea trust me, Lams - Freeform, Lots more - Freeform, Mentions of Death, Mentions of depression and abuse, Multi, Only mentions!!!, Trans Character, jeffmads - Freeform, non binary character, non binary lafayette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-04 10:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10989168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenWeNextMeetMyFriends/pseuds/WhenWeNextMeetMyFriends
Summary: What if...America lost the revolutionary war?John Laurens's legacy lived on past his death?These questions and more are answered in this fic, following the story of the boy misplaced, as he fights to figure out how to reclaim the legacy America lost.Will he throw away his shot?





	1. Prologue: A Lost Letter

**Welcome to Colonial America, land of the imprisoned and home of the depraved. A colony of Britain, we’ve been trapped on these lands for centuries, forced to export cotton and food at massive rates. While Britain leads the life of luxury, we deal with poverty, injustice, crime, and depression.**

**I’m John Laurens, named after the revolutionary lieutenant colonel of the same name. I’m a descendent of his bloodline, and happen to live on the streets, fighting for every meal.**

**My house was destroyed after my father left us for more opportunities. He left me with my mother and few siblings to tend to a small farm out in the country. It was barely enough to pay the bills.**

**That’s when a disease decided to sweep through, tear my life out from under me and kill my mom and siblings. I was the only survivor, and my father never returned home. So I set out to make a difference.**

**I travelled across the country, getting hired for whatever small jobs would pay the bills and spreading a single word, one we hadn’t thought of for years.**

**_REVOLUTION_ **

**We don’t deserve to live in poverty any longer. We need to fight back, strike out against our oppressors and take back the liberty and freedom we deserve.**

**If you’re reading this, then you need to find the next page. The coordinates are on the back, but you have to hurry. Someone has to find the full story before it’s too late.**

**I’m already a dead man, but if I die, the story dies with us. So please... spread the story. Don't throw away your shot, continue to fight on! Raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you.**

**Welcome to the revolution. I’m here to tell the story of tonight.**

~~**~John Laurens II** ~~


	2. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were so young. You weren't ready for the things the world had in store for you, but just you wait.
> 
> Just you
> 
> Wait.

You squinted at the paper, trying your hardest to read the words inscribed as your parents screamed upstairs. You jumped a bit as something broke, but otherwise were unaffected. It wasn’t like this was new to you, and you really wanted to know what this note said.

“Well… welcome to Colon… Colonial America,” You muttered, stumbling through the first line. “Land of the… imprisoned, and… home of the… dep-dap… deprahved?” 

You were but 5 years old, a mere child, and this note had fallen out of a picture book your dad gave you last night. It was a worn piece of parchment, yellowed and torn and a severe contrast to any paper you’d seen. It didn’t fit with the light blue walls of your room, or the white ceiling, or even the simple brown dresser that held your uniforms.

“Riley, dinner!” Your mother screamed, seeming still really mad after the argument. You groaned, storing the paper in a sweater pocket and heading up the stairs slowly. You were quiet, head down and shoulders tense, as you took your seat between your parents at the table. You ate quickly, ignoring the glares shot by your parents, knowing you were the only reason they were still together.

When dinner was done you left the table to set up your final chore of the night, dishes. A step stool boosted you to the kitchen sink, which you filled with hot water and dish soap to clean up the plates and pans your mother had used to make dinner. You set to work, scrubbing the food free from the plates while your parents separated, your father heading to work and your mother heading to bed.

Finishing quickly, you sit by the sink and pull out the note, struggling to read it once again in the quietness of your home. “I’m John Lawrens, named after the lie-lieuten-nenant col-olo-lnel of the same name.”

Someone knocked on the door, but you continued to read, as your mother would answer it for you.

“I went across the country, working what… what ever small… small jobs would pay the bills…”

“Hello officers!” Your mother greeted from the living room, but a large bang had you jumping to your feet, stuffing the note in your pocket as you ran to look at what was happening. 

“Momma?” You whispered, staring at your mother, forced to her knees to look up at a patrol that was usually on the street corner. He looked your way, and his eyes softened as he gestured to two other patrols.

“Ma’am, you’re under arrest for treason, supporting a revolt within our great colony.” As the man talked, the two patrols he’d gestured to came over to you, lifting you into their arms with ease. Even at such a young age you knew it was better to not struggle as they carried you out of the house and towards a patrol car.

A loud scream followed as the door closed, but two loud bangs you’d never forget rang through the air, bangs that signified one thing.

Death.

You were five years old. You knew what a gunshot was. You didn’t see your mother again.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`~~

 

“Riley! Dinner!” Your uncle called from inside the house. You were up high in a tree, trying to get as high as possible. You wanted to see the city, even if you were miles out of it. If you just got a bit higher…

“Oh Riley,” The older man groaned, standing beneath the tree. You looked down at him with a smile, waving.

“Joe, Joe! Look, I can see the patrol building from here!” You pointed towards the big city at one faintly massive building, the source of all patrols from Britain. Your uncle looked out that way and smiled.

“Alright alright, I see it.” He made his way to one of the lower branches of the tree, “But it’s dinner time, and our food is getting cold.”

You sigh, making your way down the tree, smile still on your face. “I know I know. But I really wanna see the big city! Can we go someday?”

You were only ten now, and it had been five years to the day since you’d been sent across the country to live with your uncle. The note was on you at all times, currently it was in the waistband of your jeans, hidden so no one could see it. 

Uncle Joe smiled and nodded. “Maybe this weekend we can take a trip out there. Just for you.”

“Yay!” You jumped the rest of the way out of the tree, rolling a bit as you’d learned from the tv, and ended on your feet. You turned to see him climbing down carefully, and you flashed a toothy grin.

“Come on sweetie, let’s head inside.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders in a caring matter, and led you inside the house. Sitting on the table was a small meal of stew and some bread. It was small, inside a small house out of the city, but it was home.

It was a quiet dinner, the clanking of plates and forks and occasional smile and laugh the only sounds of life. This was a different silence than with your parents. Now, it was a comfortable silence of eating and spending time with your uncle.

The note was begging for you to pull it out, even if you’d memorized the words long ago. It wanted you to tell your uncle, but… you held back. The memory of your mother’s death haunted you, a child so young forced to deal with death and bloodshed. Your father had gone missing that day and turned up dead a week later at the bottom of the Mississippi.

After dinner was dance time. Your uncle loved to dance, and had been teaching you how to do it since you joined him 5 years ago. After dinner, he'd turn on the music and take you by the waist, spinning you around the room as you laughed and sang along to whatever horribly crappy pop song came on next. It was fun, a time to goof around and be a kid. Time was behind you, not bothering your actions. Life took a break when dance time came around.

Along with dancing there was singing. You would sing the forbidden songs that were written in the first revolution, songs you were warned to never sing outside in fear of being caught. You knew your uncle hated the government, and he was there to show you what was wrong.

“The world turned upside down,” Your uncle sang, his voice soft and low. You were off-key as you followed along, but that was alright. He didn’t judge you for trying.

He spun you, much to your childish delight, and you giggled as you were brought to his chest once more.

“My smiley Riley,” He hummed a bit, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You’re going to go on to be something great.”

You pulled away to dance a bit more, and felt the paper slip out before you could grab it. The note flew across the ground, and stopped right at the feet of your uncle. His eyes widened as he reached down, picking up the paper and reading it. You were frozen in fear as he read it, unsure of what to think.

“Where… where did you find this?” His voice was shaking as he took a seat on the couch, the music fading into the background.

“I-it was in a book,” You joined him on the couch, eyes trained on your lap. “I-it was the day they… the day my mom died.”

“... I see.” Your uncle looked over at you with wonder in his eyes. “Riley, this goes to show you’re destined for greatness.”

From his sweater pocket came another worn note, of the same color and state of deterioration as the note you’d had. 

“Read this when you know the time is right.” He kissed your forehead and led you to bed, despite your protests.

You were tucked in, both notes hidden away under your shirt for protection, and your uncle smiled.

“I love you, my smiley Riley.”

Your uncle was never seen again.

You were on your own.


	3. Letter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another worn letter to read. More mystery to uncover.

So you’ve found the second letter. Unless this is the first one found, in which case

you’re not missing out too much. Just a sob story that came out in a jumbled heap due to

no time to actually write anything. So allow me to be more… concise with this letter.

 

So, if you weren’t aware, there was this big revolution around the mid to late 17oo’s

that we Americans lost. When I first heard of this, I was scared. Too scared to actually

try anything for myself. Then, I met Alex.

 

Alexander Hamilton ii. Much like myself, he was given a cursed name, but a great

name nonetheless. He was the one who showed me how much one person can accomplish.

His words moved crowds, they turned tides and ordered the weather to rain upon us.

They were also his downfall…

 

One of Alex’s favorite pastimes were minute speeches. He’d go into a crowd,

preach the revolution until the patrols showed up, and then he ran. The adrenaline rush you

could get from doing something as simple as this was incredible. We’d always have a

designated spot to meet up again, and we’d laugh and have a drink afterwards. That was

how we met Gilbert and Mulligan.

 

Gilbert was a French immigrant, whose country also lost their revolution. We

promised that if his country could support America and help us begin a revolution, we’d

repay the favor tenfold.

 

Mulligan was a brit born and raised, but he’d been sent to America for schooling.

Upon seeing our situation, he found Gilbert, and they had been on the run since. They were

like us, the two of them.

 

There we were, the proclaimed new revolutionary set. We were ready for the

world to take us on…

 

How foolish we were to trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((The rest of this page is burnt away))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, so im sorry i cant do good writing. my only computer is a piece of shit and sucks ass. anyways, i just wanna say thank you for coming along on this ride, i have a whole summer to write at least once or twice. 
> 
> please lemme know how you like this story, and where you think it should go next.
> 
> ~Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I've gained some inspiration!!!!
> 
> ((Cough cough I probs won't work on dancetale anymore sorz))
> 
> But other than that, I hope you enjoy this fic. Basically it takes place in the modern era, but America is still a colony of England. And because I'm John Laurens trash, this is all about that lovely human that deserved better.
> 
> //HE DIDN'T DESERVE TO DIEEEEEEE\\\
> 
> *Ahem*
> 
> Anyways. I know I'm trash, but this is gonna be okay, I hope.


End file.
